


the art of losing [loosing] isn't hard to master

by Ler



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:56:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ler/pseuds/Ler
Summary: One thing is rarely just One Thing, Walter Strickler knows that. But he also knows when he is very much out of his depth, and wasn't there something about a child [or in his case, three small fragile human children] and village?





	the art of losing [loosing] isn't hard to master

**Author's Note:**

> Super short. I haven't written anything in a while. It shows.

It starts with Tobias - because very many things in Walter’s life now include Tobias - who stands in his doorway with a determined look, while Walter himself has one arm full of a sleeping toddler, another with a self-help infant related books and a lot of confusion, no hands required.

“What do you know about strange dudes with glowing eyes?” says his neighbour and Walter simply doesn’t know what to say to that. 

So instead his eyes glow a bit brighter. His wings twitch.

“Are you serious right now, Mr Domzalski?”

“Not your kind of dudes with glowing eyes,” the child waves his plump hand. “The other kind.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

The boy looks around. “…if you let me in?”

And thus Tobias Dolzalski invades  ~~Walter Strickler’s~~   ~~Barbara’s~~   _their_  home.

 

When Walter rips himself away from the book it’s 30 minutes later, and is accompanied with a slight panic that it has been  **that long**  and he  **forgot** about tiny human people who have a potential of bumping into corners and falling down and hurting themselves with every single thing they could find.

“Got anything?” his guest calls from somewhere in the living room. 

“Yes, I-” starts the changeling, and then pauses, greeted with a view of Tobias, propped in front of the TV on the carpet, his back pressed against the coffee table, Walter Jr (name pending) sleeping on his lap, Otto’s head propped against his knee, and Nomura, as energetic as ever, wobbling to his side to present another “drawing”, and greeted with an excited “wow, this is amazing, you are so talented, I might take this home and put this on my own fridge”. 

So instead, Walter Strickler says: “Do you babysit?”

Toby’s head turns and beady eyes narrow.

“Depends on how much you are paying.”

“I might be the owner of the biggest library of the supernatural and troll lore in this State, Tobias. Consider your next words carefully.”

Domzalski considers. Nomura draws on his face. 

“Throw in a burrito and we have a deal.”

 

The next one is Ms Scott and her wishes are far easier for Walter to work with. 

“Toby says that you are bored and need babysitters, and I need a decent history teacher because the new guy sucks.”

Walter doesn’t know the new guy, but he is definitely far from being bored. In fact, boredom would be a welcome change. And so could be an excursion into high school history, for that matter.

“What makes you think you are qualified, Ms Scott.”

“Toby and I were the only ones not to murder our flour baby within a week last year. Also you have-” she leans in and Stricklander, all six feet of stone and wings of him, stumble back. “-apple sauce on your face. You need all the help you can get.”

That he can’t argue with. 

He also doesn’t understand what is with his students and burritos.

 

After that they just… appear. 

Mary Wang and her  _math_ , for some reason. 

Palchuk with Spanish and extra special girl problems (”because like Doc Lake is super fine and asking Coach would be  _embarrassing_ ”). 

Eli and his strange fascination with everything supernatural. 

Shannon who just wants to  _help_  (it’s concerning, and Walter considers calling her parents, but then remembers that he is not,  **NOT** , their homeroom teacher anymore and there might be questions).

Some new children Strickler has never met before, brother and sister, apparently, who come because “everyone is doing this” and they ask  _him_ what babysitting is and why would you sit on a baby, but are saved by Tobias and his bag of tricks, which turns his living room into a impromtu amature magic show (where Walter even shows a few things he picked up along the way, even if made difficult with a lack of sleeves).

 

“Tiny humans funny,” says Aaargh, a pile of  _very hard rocks_  in the hallway, all three of Strickler’s adopted children climbing all over him. 

“Don’t you have-” Walter stars, and almost has a heart attack ( _can_ he have them? in his troll form?) when Otto slips, but is deftly caught by a hand the size of Otto himself. “-patrolling to do? Is _that_ what you two do now?”

“Have time,” replies the fearsome general of Gunmar’s legion, and delicately trots like a megalithic pony from one entrance of Lake's house to another, in a choir of excited shrieking.

 

“Why is there a group of teenagers in the living room playing Uno?”

Barbara’s long fingers wrap around the mug, and she breathes away the rising steam.

“Babysitting,” Walter shrugs, and checks on the batch of burritos, slowly getting ready in the over.

“All of them?” 

“Well, Tobias is definitely babysitting, not sure about the others.”

Barbara’s eyes search sharply into the congregation, finding all three infants tucked in amongst larger children. 

[ _”Wow, Palchuk, No-No plays UNO better than you do. High five, sister. …okay, ewww, now someone pass me a tissue.”_ ]

“They miss Jim,” she mutters. Her eyes fill with something soft and quiet, and Walter’s wing, unconsciously, unfurls over her shoulders. His bony hand covers hers.

They stand, silently, in the kitchen light, until someone shouts “UNO” and the rest emit a combined groan.

Barbara rests her head against his chest.

“We need to rework out budget around all these burritos.”   

 

 


End file.
